A Candle in the Darkness
by lineX5
Summary: This story is for all who were lost in Norway on July 22, 2011 - to express grief and suffering. A prayer of sorts, let us remember all those who died in the shooting; and to remember all those who were lost in our world.
1. Destruction

This is for the victims who died on July 22nd, 2011 in Norway. I don't know what prompted me to write this - every devastating story is painful to hear about, from 9/11 to the tsunami in Japan to the earthquake in Haiti - but I felt a need to, and I can't really explain why. So I guess that this story belongs to every victims who has ever suffered in a circumstance like this, from something planned to a natural disaster. We can never really forget these stories, and we cannot know the suffering, but as best as I could, I tried to express all I could in words.

Please bear with the story; I hope it's alright.

Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz.

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><p>The small flame glimmers in the dark, flickering gently underneath the starlight. A figure kneels before the mass of flowers, face hidden in his hands as tears fall from lavender eyes. Scarlet blooms across his shirt like ruby flowers; blood trickles down his face, stains his fingers, pools on the ground underneath him. His body is shaking as he suppresses silent sobs, painfully loud in his pounding head.<p>

He reaches forwards with a trembling hand, only to collapse onto his hands and knees, his eyes wide, unseeing and yet seeing as it replayed in his head, over and over and over again. So many lost, so many dead. How many? Too many.

Tears spill over his cheeks, drip off the curve of his chin. His expression is set in one of great anguish and utter shock - and yet, how could one not grieve after the events that had played forth today? He shakes his head back and forth, his pale hair hitting the sides of his face as droplets of his blood hit the ground, streaking crimson across the white blossoms of a rose.

But still, the small flame continues to dance and skip before him, a tiny beacon of light - so small and yet so grand - in the nighttime, beckoning all those who were lost back home.

* * *

><p>Gunshots are fired; the blast of a bomb rings throughout the area, deafeningly loud. Fire flares upwards - a burning pyre - as smoke engulfs the building in dark hands. People, young adults, are running back and forth, fleeing, as the chaos ensues, like an orchestrated dance of destruction. Some are shot down in an untimely murder; others jump into the waters, only to find Death waiting before them, its arms open in morbid welcoming.<p>

The waters turn red, spreading outwards - a plume of crimson, horrifically beautiful.

The building crumbles; people fall to the ground, covering their heads as debris rains down from above.

Screams overwhelm the gunshots, overwhelm the crackle of the flames; they shatter the silence. A thousand voices - of terror, of fear, of rage, of anguish, and of sorrow - are contained in one. People silently pray to the heavens, only to be cast away by a blind eye.

A blank gaze stares upwards at a sky of pale duck blue - peaceful. A single tear slides down a cold cheek. A limp hand falls to the soft grass, stained red.

"_Help." _

* * *

><p><em>Pain. That's all I felt. It was endless. It was nothing, but it was everything. <em>

_Make it stop. _

_Red and black slashed through my vision; I could not breath nor speak. But I could still hear - I heard the rhythmic blast of gunfire, and voices… so many voices. They sobbed, screamed… Anguish and terror filled the air, thick on my tongue; it surrounded me like a wall, closing in tighter, tighter… _

_Time was endless. I waited those slow seconds until death would finally consume me. I was not afraid; I could not wish for anything more. _

_Spiraling… Higher, higher. It was infinite. _

_Please, make it stop._

_Finally, blackness enfolds around me, and I fall, tumbling through the abyss, free-falling into the arms of Death. _

* * *

><p>He can see it all; feel it all. The fear and the panic; the turmoil and the disarray. A phantom pain rips through him; it's like the bullets are embedding themselves in his skin, digging deeper, deeper. He can practically feel the debris as it fell past him - the thick cloud of dust; the fragments of the building raining downwards. A gasp leaves his parted lips; his hand flies for his belly as he resists the urge to vomit. Tilting his head upwards, he feels the tears beginning to pool behind his closed lids as he attempts to block out the images that have already been ingrained in his mind.<p>

The bodies thud to the ground - dozens of youth; those who had never lived their lives to the fullest have suddenly disappeared. Dreams are crushed, hopes and aspirations gone. Others sprint for the waters, attempt to swim away. Blood spreads across the grounds; like a emerald-and-ruby mural.

Across town, the explosion is deafening, thunderous and roaring as it shook the grounds and heavens. Glass splinters; the stone cracks. People drop to the ground as a car is hurled through the air. Inside the building, the flames are burning hotter and hotter; some people attempt to douse the fire while others attempt to escape. Under their feet, the broken glass cracks and shatters.

The mayhem ensues as screams fill the sky; terror, so much terror…

His heart shattered; like a glass vase breaking apart, it splintered to a million pieces.

* * *

><p><em>A hazy mist surrounds me. I wander around, going nowhere, somewhere, everywhere. I feel as though I'm going around in an endless circle; round, round, round I go, never to reach my destination. Anger trembles through me; am I mad that I'm not going anywhere, or the fact that I'm losing myself somewhere? But I'm terrified as well. Where am I? Where is everyone? <em>

_Pain enfolds me, endless. Darkness pulled me under, grabbing at me, choking me. I fought against it, frightened. I needed to escape; I needed to be safe. I wasn't safe. Where am I? _

_A voice whispers to me. I cannot distinguish the words; they're a muddle of sounds that repeat themselves over and over again. They're constantly hanging over me, never disappearing, always there._

"Please… please… please…"

_There's a light in the distance, but I'm afraid. I'm compelled to go towards it - every cell in my body pulls me forwards as it beckons me, calls for me. I take a hesitant step forwards; the light flashes brighter, purer. _

"Come…"

_Another step. Slowly, my fear begins to melt away. I have found myself on the right track. My feet begin to pick up speed - soon, I find myself running. The grasp the shadows had on me loosened. Pain becomes sharper, but its receding. Why? I sprint forwards; the light is startlingly brilliant. _

_My eyes open, flickering for a moment. The whiteness is blinding. White-hot pain explodes through me, and then…_

_The heart monitor flat lines._

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><p>He feels the grief suddenly overwhelm him; a ceaseless tide of suffering and torment. It strangles him as he lets out a sob, the sound heaving from his throat as his chest constricts. His hands fist the material of his shirt as he struggles to stay sane; he's balancing precariously on the edge of oblivion and perception.<p>

He stumbles forwards; collapses to the ground. Staring out, he sees the silent vigil of flowers - a mass of colorful petals against the black of night. His body shakes as he feels more sobs rise from his chest. His hands hit the stone ground as he feels his tears pour ceaselessly from his eyes, wide in his anguish.

So many lost, so many gone. So many families, without a son or daughter, husband or wife, mother or father. So much sorrow, so much agony. The callous intrusion on a nation once so peaceful.

But why, he could only ask. Why?

A gentle hand lands on his shoulder, but he doesn't turn to see who it is - he doesn't care, simply enough. With an embrace so tender, he feels arms wrap around his waist as a warm body is pressed into his backside. Turning his head slightly to the side, he sees the silvered hair of his brother catch underneath the moonlight. Iceland?

A figure moves to kneel before him. A pair of fingers tip his chin upwards, and he meets the familiar gaze of Denmark. All conceit is gone in the young man's eyes, replaced only with sadness.

"If you are suffering, then show us. Let us all feel your pain and your sorrow," Denmark murmurs, his voice soft. "If you are mourning, then let us mourn with you. If you cry, then we shall cry too. If you grieve, so will we."

His mouth parts slightly as more tears fall from his eyes. He is helped up by Denmark, he staggers slightly as he leans heavily against the bigger man's body. Turning, he utters a small gasp as he sees the eyes of so many staring back at him, bringing with them grief but comfort and hope as well; they brought with them respect for those lost, and the respect for those who stood strong during this terrible time. He recognized the faces of his friends and family, Iceland, Sweden, and Finland; recognized the faces of those from far and from near, like England and Poland, Japan and America.

A small figure steps by him - he distinguishes it to be Japan's youngest sister, Okinawa, a small island off the coast of Kyushu. In her hands is a candle, already lit, to replace those that had already burnt out. Kneeling before the pile of flowers, she presses a single kiss to the wax surface, before placing it down with the utmost care. At the simple gesture, he felt his heart swell with feeling; the tears continued to fall harder, faster. His hands fisted the shirt of Denmark as he fought against the conflicting emotions.

"Although we cannot feel the burden you feel right now, know that we will stay by your side. So don't face this alone, Norway," Denmark continued, his voice quiet. "Face it with the world - we're all here."

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><p>The world is in silence as we mourn the lives of those lost on July 22nd, 2011. We are in shock that such terror has gripped such a peaceful nation, and we can only ask, why them? Why there? But we must question why this would happen anywhere - in the United States, in Britain, in Norway, wherever - why? Why does this happen? We cannot fathom, however, why this would happen, for the human mind is so vastly perplexing and mystifying that we stay blind to our surroundings.<p>

The names of those deceased in this horrible murder may not be known to us as they fly upon the winds to the skies, yet, forevermore, they will be remembered in our hearts and in our souls, and in the spirit of the world.

Let us remember all those who have died in the essence of time and history; those who we had loved and cherished; and those who may have been strangers. Let us not forget.

Watch as that single flame - one that can mean so much - dance in the winds as they beckon those who have been lost back home.

**Light up the darkness.**

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><p>So, yes. There is that. To clear up any confusion, 'he' is Norway, and the italicized portion are like the victims who may have perished in the shooting. My condolences to anyone who lost someone in this terrible shooting, and to anyone else out there who has lost someone in an event similar to this, or in a natural disaster, or to some sort of sickness. I lost someone very important to me last year from a sickness.<p>

Anyways, I'll finish that there. Sorry that the ending's a little cheesy, but it's to express everything in loss.

To those who read this, please rate I would like to know how I did, if that's alright with you.

And thank you to anyone who read this story - I hope what happened in Norway touched your heart as much as it touched mine.


	2. Recovery

_***NOTE*: **_I changed a few things so I re-uploaded this chapter.

After watching the news tonight, it still pained me to see what has happening in Norway. Here, in Canada, I wish I could lend a helping hand across the Atlantic, but unfortunately, I can't. I wish I could send roses; I wish I could do anything to help. However, being a teen, I really can't go anywhere without a parent's permission. :/

Here is my meager little offering in part of a second chapter in this story. Please bear with it; I hope, once again, that it is alright. I mean it to show that this nation is slowly recovering, and that the world will continue to be behind Norway.

Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz

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><p><em>Gunshots are fired; the blast of a bomb rings throughout the area, deafeningly loud. Fire flares upwards - a burning pyre - as smoke engulfs the building in dark hands…<em>

Norway shot up from his bed with a cry, his eyes wide in his sudden terror. After a few anxious moments, he finally realized where he was, and, releasing a long, shuddering breath, he fell back onto his bed, suddenly exhausted. One hand going for his throat in an attempt to stifle his scream of sudden agony, he examined his other hand, watched as it shook; he was so cold.

It had been two days since that terrible day - two days ago, 76 people had had their lives violently torn away from them in that bloody massacre. Still, he had nightmares; still, the images of the dead flashed across his mind's eye: the images of destruction, of pain, of fear… He shuddered, his hand curling into a fist as he attempted to calm himself. Taking in a deep breath, he suddenly felt the urge to move around; he felt trapped, restrained. Slipping from the warm covers of his bed, he willed himself to move without falling over - he felt so weak. Stumbling to his window, he fisted the thick drapes as he, with all his might, pulled them open. Soft, white light spilled into his room, and as he stared out the window, he felt his body go still in his sudden terror as his heart pounded in his chest.

Staring back at him was not his face, but that of a young girl. She stared right at him, her dark brown eyes filled with sorrow, her brown hair clinging to her body in wet clumps. Her expression seemed one of defeated understanding; Norway's heart felt so heavy as he looked deep into those sad, brown eyes… Blood flowed steadily from the crown of her head, covered her chest, her arms… She reached outwards towards him, her hands stained with red.

In his mortified wonder, Norway slowly reached out towards her, his fingers brushing over the cold glass. Yet, as soon as she had appeared before him, she was suddenly gone, disappearing as though blown away by the breeze. Now, Norway found himself staring deep into his own eyes, and as he saw that expression of anguish so prominently etched across his features, he felt suddenly overwhelmed.

Collapsing onto his knees, he doubled over as sobs wracked his slender frame; as his tears of pure and utter sorrow filled the air, hanging there like a silent song of agony.

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><p><em>There was a flash of red, <em>_a screeching sound that rang in my ears, resonating repeatedly like drums, _boom, boom, boom_. Repeatedly, I could hear the whirring drone of the gun; still, I could hear the dull clutter as empty shells hit the ground. I could still hear the dull, fleshy thud as the bullet tore through my flesh; could still feel the sudden flare of pain in my shoulder and neck; that sensation of searing agony as my nerves tingled with terrible sensation; as my brain worked in overdrive attempting to process what had just happened. _

_Unintelligible noise buzzed in my head. I could not make sense of it; it was all jumbled together like a mass of words, as if everyone was speaking at the same time and nothing was getting anywhere. _

_The pain was endless. Time did not matter; it too was endless. How many seconds passed by? Minutes, hours, days, weeks? It felt like years. Consciousness was just beyond my grasp, hanging there, taunting me, laughing at me. But when I could reach it, what would I do? Would I lose my resolve, my composure? The pain was so great… I knew, without a doubt, that I would shriek, scream, thrash about. I would lose control of my body, of my mind. _

_I could sustain this. I knew I could._

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><p>Iceland watched closely as his brother staggered down the street, clutched tightly in his hands a bouquet of roses. Denmark wrapped his arm securely around the other nation's shoulders, positioning him so that he would not fall over. Oh God, he looked so weak, so frail. His skin was as white as snow, his eyes lined with dark bags. His dull gaze seemed duller, and he seemed so thin, as though his clothing was hanging off his frame.<p>

Woken from terrible bout of screaming, Iceland had rushed from his room and into his brother's, only to find him on his knees on the floor, Denmark holding him firmly to his body as he sobbed out his fears and his troubles and his agony into the bigger man's shoulder. Iceland could see that his knuckles were white from where he gripped Denmark's shirt so tightly between his fingers, as though afraid he'd be lost if he let go. All the while, Denmark was silent, his expression troubled as he hugged the smaller nation closer.

Iceland didn't know what to do as he stood there silently; he felt a sudden urge to go over and wrap his arms around Norway's shaking body in an attempt to protect him from the destruction from two days past, and yet, he could find no strength in his own body to move over to his brother's side. So instead, he watched in pain as Norway sat there, weeping, while he stood by, unable to do anything. Behind him, he heard the entrance of both Sweden and Finland. However, he did not turn to face them; in fact, he couldn't feel anything in his body. The only thing he could feel were the tears that poured down his face as he stared at his brother.

But why? Why did Norway have to feel such a violent onset of terror and agony? Why was it _he _that had to feel such devastation and ruin? He was such a peaceful nation, and yet… What had happened there… So truly unforgivable…

Iceland barely felt his nails cut into his skin as they dug into his palm; barely felt the blood that trickled past his knuckles onto the ground. Barely did he feel anything; yet, with a sharpness so clear and crushing, he could feel his brother's grief as it pressed against him in a ceaseless tide, over and over and over again.

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><p><em>Immeasurable moments later… The pain began to fade ever so slowly. The blockage in my throat had disappeared. The fire in my chest… it was gone. My head felt clearer, I did not feel as dull, lifeless. Consciousness slipped closer, closer. I could touch it with my fingers. <em>

_The noise, those words, became comprehensible. I could make them out now, if barely. Deeper voices, soft, soothing. Commanding. Then, higher pitched voices. Women, perhaps? They scratched at my ears…_

_The pain was gradually leaving. The fire retreated from my limbs. I could breath easier. _

_Consciousness was slipping even closer; I could reach it._

_Seconds. Minutes. Hours._

_Darkness. Screams. Red, red, red._

Boom, boom, boom.

_Endless._

* * *

><p>Hokkaido's breath caught in her throat as she stepped through the streets of Oslo, her heels make faint <em>clicking <em>noises against the pavement sidewalk. Attempting to keep her composure, she felt her bottom lip tremble as she took in another shuddering breath. Red-and-white littered the roads; filled up practically every corner of the city - the petals were sprinkled with dew, the drops of water glittering there like transparent tears. Held between her hands was a small glass vase, and in that vase, a sprig of cherry blossom, a flower so reminiscent of her culture and nation itself. Beside her was her brother, Japan, his eyes downcast as he walked beside her, a ruby-red rose gripped tightly in his hand.

Silence hung heavily in the air, and she could practically taste the anguish on her tongue as it clung to her like an unshakeable stench. Looking skywards, the sky was clear - peaceful. It was almost hilariously cruel, she found, when such horror had gripped this serene nation only a few days ago.

Teeth gritting together, she resisted the urge to scream her frustrations out to the heavens. Why had they turned away that day? Why had they let so many innocent people die? Hokkaido almost felt betrayed by her merciful Bodhisattva, the Goddess of Compassion, Kanzeon. Why hadn't _she _done anything to save these people? If the Gods were truly enlightened, why hadn't they done anything? Why did they let that… that… disgusting _creature _of a man - could Hokkaido even call him human anymore? - do what he had done? Why hadn't they seen this?

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, Hokkaido almost tripped, one hand releasing the vase as she grabbed her brother's shoulder. Turning his head to the side in a quick motion, he asked, voice concerned,

"_Imouto, _are you alright?"

Hokkaido just nodded as she staggered upright, pushing her hand through the short locks of her cropped black hair. "I'm fine, _nii-san, _just a little… tired."

Japan just nodded knowingly, his expression grave. "I know, Hokkaido, I know."

Of course he knew; he knew what it was like for an entire country to be in mourning over a tragedy. They both did. And although the circumstance was completely different - one had been a natural disaster, while the other was a mass murder - both of them had lost so many innocent lives. Both of them had felt the pain; felt the sudden jolt of agonizing distress and suffering rip through their bodies as _their _people were killed, yet knowing they were helpless to stop it.

After that terrible earthquake and tsunami March 11th, 2011, Japan and his siblings had been powerless to do anything, their bodies battered and half-destroyed from the damage they had sustained - Japan and Honshu had received the most. Thousands of people had died, hundreds of others injured, countless more missing. And yet, at their darkest hour, so many people offered their help - so many nations came to assist the shattered country rebuild what was so brutally lost. And out of the forty-five nations that lent a hand, Norway had been one of them. Silent and efficient, he helped pick them up; he led rescue operations and helped re-erect broken buildings.

And now, it was their turn to lend a helping hand; it was their turn to pick him off the ground, offer support and comfort.

After a short walk, the two reached the area where the majority of the tributes were placed, right outside the Cathedral of Oslo. Pulling up the silk fabric of her trousers, Hokkaido squatted down, action followed by Japan. Silently, he placed the rose among the millions of others, closing his eyes as he quietly paid his respects. After watching her brother, Hokkaido brought the sprig of cherry blossoms to her lips as she whispered a silent prayer under her breath.

"O, Merciful Goddess, Kanzeon, I beg of you, please watch over the victims who suffered in this shooting. Please shed upon them the light of your compassion."

Then, with a motion so gentle, she placed the glass vase on the ground. For a moment, she stared into sea of flowers, before rising slowly off the ground. Then, clutching her brother's hand, they both bowed low before the tribute as they preformed their respects.

Before them, a small flag of Norway fluttered in the breeze, unwavering and proud.

* * *

><p><em>Millimeters. The blackness was fading away. Pain became sharper, but it was receding. My mind became clearer. I could hear, words became intelligible, comprehensible.<em>

_The grasp the shadows had on me loosened. The distinct pain in my throat and shoulder told me I was still alive; the startling ache in my chest told me I could still breath, that I was still here, still _human_. I regained control of my limbs, my coordination, perception, dexterity. _

_The pain was so sharp._

_Hours, minutes, seconds._

_Light slipped through the darkness, startling me in it's brilliance. _

_Whiteness was blinding._

* * *

><p>Norway clutched onto Denmark's arm as they finally reached the massive tribute in the square before the Cathedral of Oslo. Flowers seemed to bloom from the cement; the soft perfume of roses infused the air. Hands trembling, Norway felt his hands enclose around the plastic wrap of the roses tighter and tighter until he felt the blood flow stop at the tip of his fingers. Pausing, Norway felt completely helpless as he stood there, suddenly not knowing what to do. A small nudge on his back caused him to startle, and he looked behind him to see Denmark standing there, flanked by Iceland.<p>

"Go," he murmured. "We'll be right here."

Nodding slowly, Norway took a small hesitant step forwards, his body trembling as he resisted the urge to burst into sobs once more. Body suddenly beginning to ache, he released one of his hands to clutch the fabric of his shirt just above his heart. He could feel it pounding in his chest, _thump, thump, thump. _

Now standing before the mass of roses, Norway practically fell to his knees as he placed the roses down with a shaking hand. Taking in a deep breath, he felt the tears begin to pour down his cheeks as he felt his composure crumble under him again. Grief crushed him under its weight like a boulder, heavy, oppressive - he could barely breath.

"Norway-_san,_" a gentle voice murmured, so familiar. Through the haze of his tears, he turned to see four figures standing before him, three of them male and the single other female. Wiping his eyes, he could now distinguish the smaller two were of Asian descent, their features soft and elfin upon pretty faces. Japan and Hokkaido? Denmark towered behind them, his hands on both of their shoulders. Their dark eyes, fathomless with emotion, stared down at him with a sense of great sympathy and sadness. Suddenly, he was in Hokkaido's embrace as she hugged him tightly, her arms vise-like around his waist.

"Hokkaido?" He whispered, his voice hoarse. "What are you doing here?"

"To repay to you the great help you once gave us," Japan answered as he kneeled at his sister's side. "Although we cannot do anything to help rebuild what was destroyed or help give back what was lost, we can give to you what will hope help you and this strong nation recover." Reaching forwards, he placed a gentle but firm hand on Norway's shoulder, position awkward by Hokkaido's hug.

"Please listen to me for the moment," Japan went on. "And open your eyes; look around."

Before Norway could question Japan's odd choice of words, Hokkaido pulled away, as if urging him to follow her brother's order. So, Norway looked around, for once seeing those around him. Although the grief still hung in the air, what he saw was the beginning of a mending nation, whose wounds were slowly healing.

Couples walked by, heads close together as they whispered to one another; children skipped and laughed as they ran through the square, some pausing to admire the sea of roses or to place one down themselves. Families stopped as they strolled by to pay their respects, some lighting a candle or putting down a rose. Already, Norway could almost feel the sadness slowly lift away, the burden beginning to gradually disappear. Norway looked on in awe, before his thoughts were quickly interrupted as Japan continued.

"What you not need now is pity; what you truly need is the knowledge that from around the world, you are receiving love. Each person is connected to another, and as a whole, you are all healing. And however slow the process, know that the world will be behind you the entire time."

Bit by bit, Norway felt a small smile beginning to spread across his lips as new tears began to spill from his eyes. What Japan said was true: although they were still picking up the pieces of their shattered hearts - they were slowly recovering.

"_**Evil can kill a human being but never defeat a people." **_- Prime Minister Stoltenberg

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><p>The italicized portion represents a victim who managed to survive the shooting and woke up in the hospital. I really do hope that this is acceptable and correct; my knowledge of the 'rose march' are pictures off the internet. When I saw them, I was moved to tears. I really was. I really do hope that Norway is recovering; but know that love is always around if you need it.<p>

Kanzeon is the Buddhist Goddess of Compassion; in Chinese, she is known as Guanyin. I like to think I'm Buddhist.

Uhmm... I'm really sorry about the OC. I felt more comfortable writing her into the story, so I apologize for that.

Thank you to anyone who read this story - once again, I hope what happened in Norway touched your heart as much as it touched mine.


End file.
